


But I Didn't Say

by yourguardianangel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, One Shot, he dies, that should be pretty obvious, torture mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 08:58:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4998700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourguardianangel/pseuds/yourguardianangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot in which Stiles is so very brave, and Derek is so very gentle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Didn't Say

Stiles gasps at the bolt of pain that fires up his side. His eyes widen in the near darkness, breath catching in his throat, and dimly he hears a strangled roar. He doesn’t register his knees hitting the gravel, only the ground becoming closer, whatever injury they registered paling in comparison to the fleshy mess that has been made of his side, let alone the rest of him. He blinks slowly, the world surging around him in a strange, void-like state, and he can see his hands shaking in front of him but he can’t feel them. They had broken every bone in each of his fingers long before the others had even noticed he was missing, and his legs would never have supported him anyway after what they had done to his ankles, but through it all he had told himself to hold on. If he could just hold on, for a little while longer, he could see them again, he could get out alive. Black dots pulse in his vision.

_No, no,_ he thinks. _Not now. Please, not now._

“Stiles!”

He’s tipping, he can see it happening, his body is giving out on him, but warm hands are suddenly bracing him from behind, a back is pressing against his from behind and holding him up.

 _“Stiles,”_ It’s Derek, oh thank god, it’s Derek, but his voice is wrecked and Stiles can’t feel his own hands, let alone _lift_ them, and his chest is rising and falling in short, sharp stabs of air.

“Derek,” he tries to say, tries to shout, but it comes out in a breathless, wobbling hiss, “Derek, please, help me-”

“I’m right here, Stiles,” Derek says, and his voice vibrates through Stiles, close to his ear, and Stiles tries to shift so he can look at him but his body is _not cooperating , why is it not cooperating_.

“Derek, I’m so scared,” he whispers between breaths, and his eyes are wide and full of moonlight as he looks up at Derek, glistening with tears unshed. Derek is looking down upon him, his face smeared in dark lines of blood, and Stiles doesn’t know whose it is, but the werewolf manages a watery smile for him and presses a chaste kiss to the top of his head.

“I know, Stiles. I’m with you.”

And there’s a hand on his side, his bad side, and Stiles whimpers but so does Derek, and in the night, through fading eyes, Stiles can see the blackening veins, and he can’t feel the pain any more, there’s nothing they can do to him any more, and he gasps, a few short hiccups of the blood-soaked air. 

“I’m so scared,” he mouths, his features twisting, and he is fighting to keep his eyes open. Derek raises a hand, brushing it across Stiles’ sweat-beaded forehead.His hands are shaking too. He bows his head close to Stiles, his breath coasting gently across the boy’s nose.

“Rest, Stiles. You are so brave, and you are loved,” Derek murmurs into his hair, and then there is silence where there should have been sound, and stillness where there should have been movement.

Derek does not move for a long time.


End file.
